Slit my wrists and watch them bleed
that's my life before my eyes,
nothing else before I die.
The ground falls free and I trip
on bodies of my dead.
These are the mirrors of the past.
Everything belongs to Death
and death belongs to me
as the gorgeous red runs from my veins
to stain the faces of my faults.
I know you, I've seen your face
and I love you for my vice.